


More Time

by sanctuary_for_all



Category: Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Family, Feels, Fix-It, Fluff, I apologize for writing the 501st, I know there are 500 of these already, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 10:12:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11251020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctuary_for_all/pseuds/sanctuary_for_all
Summary: Sometimes, all it takes is a few extra seconds.(Spoilers for "Wonder Woman")





	More Time

When Sammy shoved the bomb at him, only an instant before he’d been about to jump on the escaping plane, Steve thought it was to make sure the canisters burned. There was no time for explanations – he’d used every second he had on Diana – but the look on his friend’s face said goodbye as well or better than words could. Steve took the bomb, hoping Sammy read his own goodbye on Steve’s face, and jumped into the plane.

It was only when he was in the air, the plane climbing upward to his inevitable death, that he realized the bomb also meant something else – the extra time he’d wished for. The German pilot, the one he’d knocked out, had what looked to be a parachute strapped to his back. The Americans didn’t use them, and neither did the British, but Steve had liked the idea when he’d first heard about them. One last chance, right when you desperately needed it.

Which, for Steve, was right now. If he could rig the controls, steal the parachute off the pilot, then the brief delay on the bomb might give him just _barely_ enough time to….

No. No, he should stay with the plane, make sure that nothing went wrong in that brief slice of time between setting the bomb and the plane exploding. He’d known from the moment he’d joined the war that he might end up giving his life to it, and he should probably be grateful to get the chance to do it on something that he knew down to the depths of his soul was right. As a spy, those chances came along more rarely than he would like, and he should respect the opportunity he’d been given and end it properly.

But… Diana was still down there. If she survived her battle – and he had to believe she would, or else what was the point – he wanted to be there to back her up for the next one. He wanted to find all the good things in the world and show them to her, a desperate attempt to balance the fact that she’d already seen so much of the bad. He wanted to be near her, just one more time.

He would probably still die. There were so many things that could go wrong, and he had to do everything he could to make sure the plane exploded. But if there was even a chance….

_You can either do nothing, or you can do something._

He’d keep fighting, even if it was just a few seconds longer.

Steve rigged the controls to keep climbing, then hurriedly yanked off the man’s parachute. He pulled it on as quickly as he could, set the bomb, and jumped.

He fell, waiting until the fireball exploded above his head before yanking the parachute’s ripcord. The chute billowed open, slowing his fall, and as he drifted down in the middle of the blackness he watched the light show going on down on the ground. There was no way even the worst weapons he’d seen could do all that – Diana must have been right about Ares, even if she hadn’t been right about who he was.

Still, if anyone could take out a god, it was her.

Then the base exploded, disappearing in a ball of white light so huge he knew it had to be the deathblow. A shockwave rolled out, slamming into him, and as unconsciousness took him his very last thought was to hope that Diana had been the one to throw it.

000

When Steve opened his eyes, three things occurred to him at once.

First, he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t in great shape – his leg was broken, and he was battered and bruised enough that it was easier to point out the parts of him that _didn’t_ hurt than the ones that did – but that was such a vast improvement on being dead he wasn’t about to complain. Second, he was in the middle of the woods – from the way the tree limbs above him looked, they’d done what they could to break his fall.

Third, it was midday light streaming in on his face, which meant he’d lost a hell of a lot of time.

He ripped himself free of the parachute, now torn to pieces by its crash through the trees. Next to go was the uniform jacket, since he didn’t know whether he was going to have to play downed German pilot, German deserter, or American spy in desperate need of allies. He tore it into pieces, using the strips and a branch to fashion an impromptu splint for his leg.

Then, taking a few minutes to psych himself up, he grabbed another of the fallen tree branches as a makeshift crutch and forced himself upright on his one good leg. The wash of pain made him stagger, but he held onto the branch and made himself breathe through it.

Then, oh so slowly, he set off in the general direction of what he hoped was civilization.

000

It took him another day and a half, along with a band of surprisingly kind German soldiers who’d survived the light show he’d seen from the sky, to get the complete story of what happened. Relief left him staggered to the point of tears, and the Germans patted his shoulder and murmured something about pain as their medic properly set his leg.

Unfortunately, the chain of command was less accommodating. He spend another two days talking to various government officials, both German and British, before he was allowed access to a phone capable of making a personal call back to London. When he finally got it, he wasn’t at all surprised to see his hands were trembling as he dialed Etta’s home number. If she wasn’t there he’d try the War Office, but it was Saturday morning back in London and he really, _really_ didn’t want to talk to a stranger right now.

It felt like an eternity before he heard Etta’s voice on the other end.  “If this is you complaining one more time about bringing some ‘loose woman’ into the flat, Marleen, I will march right over there and beat you senseless with your own wooden leg. I told you, it doesn’t bloody well matter what she looks like – she is _family_.”

Her voice caught on the last word, and Steve had to close his eyes as he felt his own throat close up. “Hi,” he managed, voice rough. “I’m not dead again.”

There was a stretch of perfect silence on the other end of the phone, then he heard her draw in a ragged breath. “Well,” she managed finally, voice wavering. “That’s… that’s just….” The last attempt broke off in a sob, quickly muffled, and it took a few minutes for her to speak again. “Yes, well. Looks like I won’t have to go job hunting after all, which is useful.” She sniffled. “Though it might have been nice to have a boss who didn’t try to get himself _killed_ all the time.”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, even though his eyes were wet. “I’ll see what I can do about that.” He swiped a hand across his cheeks, a fresh rush of emotion making his chest catch. “Listen, the ‘loose woman’ you have staying with you. Is she… I don’t suppose it’s—”

“Of _course_ it’s Diana,” Etta said exasperatedly, cutting him off. “They got in last night,  and in a few hours we were going to meet up at the memorial board they have set up at Picadilly Circus to see your—“ She gasped, cutting herself off this time. “Diana.” There was a thunk, as if she’d dropped the receiver, and for a few moments there was only silence. Steve glanced over at the soldier waiting just outside the door, ready to fake a conversation if it would help encourage them not to end the call, when he heard vague muttering sounds on the other end.

Then, miraculously, it was Diana’s voice that filled his ear. “Hello? I am sorry, but Etta would not tell me who was speaking.”

Steve decided he should give up on trying to wipe away the tears, because it was clear more were going to immediately show up to take their place. “It’s… it’s me, Steve.” He cleared his throat. “Turns out I kind of survived the plane explosion.”

“You’re alive,” she breathed, the words imbued with so much hope that hearing them made his chest hurt. “Oh, thank Zeus for such a gift.”

Well, it was as good an explanation as any. “Yeah.” He blinked hard. “I’m feeling pretty fond of the guy myself.”

Suddenly, she was all urgency. “Where are you? Are you injured? Stay where you are – we will come to you at once. Chief came with us – I am sure he will be able to find us whatever transportation we need to get to you.”

Steve looked back at the doorway again. “Listen, it might not be that easy. Even though the war’s over, there’s still a lot of red tape to—”

“Steve.” Her voice was gentle but firm as she cut him off. “I am coming to you. This red tape will not be able to stop me any more than bullets could.” She swallowed, and when she spoke again he could hear the tears. “I love you. I will not let you out of my sight again.”

His heart was taking up so much of his chest he was amazed his lungs could draw a full breath. “I love you, too. I’ll tell them you’re coming.”

000

Steve spent the next three days talking to all those same officials, and then a few more, trying to smooth the way for Diana and the rest of the crew. He absolutely believed Diana when she said she was coming anyway – he’d never doubt her again, no matter how crazy whatever she was saying sounded – but if he could make sure they didn’t accidentally cause a diplomatic incident along the way then so much the better.

Besides, it helped the restlessness. He wanted to be home so badly his teeth hurt, a state of being that had nothing to do with whether or not he was in London. Home was coming to him, in the form of the four bravest, truest friends he’d ever known and a woman who’d made him believe in heroes again.

He hitched a ride down to the docks with a group of British servicemen, making sure he’d be there in plenty of time for their ship to come in. He’d gotten a real crutch by this point, the remnants of the German uniform replaced by civilian clothes someone had scrounged up, and hardly anyone gave him a second look as they moved by about their business.

Then he heard Diana call out his name, immediately followed by Etta and Charlie doing the same thing, and he pushed himself to his feet to see a crowd waving at him from one of the smaller ships pulling into port. He waved back, a grin splitting his face, and Diana immediately turned and around and started heading to the boat’s stern. Everyone else on the boat turned back to look at her, and he could imagine them asking where she was going, but Steve had a pretty good idea.

Any good leap needed a running start.

He started moving before she’d landed, but he was still hampered by his broken leg. Diana was running the moment her feet touched the ground, weaving through the crowds, and got to him long before he could get to her. Her arms were around him in an instant, scooping him up and spinning him around, and while they would definitely have a talk later about not doing that in front of his co-workers right then he didn’t care. He just dropped his crutch and held on as hard as he could, more grateful to be alive than he had been in a very long time.

She set him back down on his feet, her eyes wet as she smoothed her hands over his face like it was something precious. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was wrong about Ludendorff – killing him at the party wouldn’t have saved the village. I never should have said—”

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I blamed myself. I should have figured out a way to—”

She laid her fingers over his lips. “ _We_ should have,” she corrected solemnly. “But _I_ should have stopped the gas with you. If I had been there—”

“Hey.” He gently moved her hand, pressing a kiss against her fingers. “You were busy. You had a god to fight.”

Her eyes widened. “You believe me?”

Guilt stung, even in the middle of all the happiness he was feeling. “I never should have doubted you.”

Diana opened her mouth, as if she was about to say something, then leaned forward to kiss him instead. It was more intense than anything they’d shared during their one stolen night together, as if she’d been saving it up, and as he let himself fall into it he felt like he was flying.

When they broke apart, she pressed her forehead against his. “I love you,” she whispered, eyes shining.

Somehow, the words sounded even sweeter in person. “I love you, too,” he whispered back, infinitely grateful that people didn’t always get what they deserved. There was no world, anywhere, where he deserved something like this.

But he’d do everything in his power to make sure she never regretted her choice.

Next to them, there was the distinct sound of a person clearing his throat. “Pardon me,” Sammy said. “But a line is starting to form.”

Only then did Diana let go of him, picking up his crutch and handing it to him as Etta came from the other side to enfold him in a hug. Chief did the same, going high to make sure he didn’t dislodge Etta, and they both let go to give Charlie a turn.

When Sammy took his hug last, Steve’s throat was tight. “Thank you for the bomb,” he murmured. “The time delay is the only reason I’m here now.”

Sammy smiled. “I told you you’d get yourself killed without us.”

When Sammy let go, Diana was back at his side again. Her fingers entwined with his, a question in her eyes, and as he tightened his hand around hers he felt like he was flying again. “We don’t have to go back to London, you know.” He smiled. “I know you hated it.”

She smiled back at him, gaze sweeping their small group before resting on him. “I am still not certain how I feel about the city, but I’ve started to become very fond of the people.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my new original fiction on my [blog](http://jennifferwardell.blogspot.com) or say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://sanctuaryforalluniverses.tumblr.com)!


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